


The Art of Losing

by suburbanmotel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with an Ambiguous Ending, Anxiety, Apocalypse, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, End of the World, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Heteronormativity, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, Love Conquers All, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, True Love, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suburbanmotel/pseuds/suburbanmotel
Summary: Liam doesn't like to lose, even though he's very good at it.It's an apocalypse story. Maybe.





	The Art of Losing

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Zayn’s lyrics: 
> 
>  
> 
> _But you'll never be alone_  
>  _I'll be with you from dusk till dawn_

//

 

 _—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture_  
_I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident_  
_the art of losing’s not too hard to master_  
_though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster._  
~Elizabeth Bishop

 

 _Is it possible to love so desperately that life is unbearable? I don’t mean unrequited, I mean being in the love. In the midst of it and desperate. Because knowing it will end, because everything does. End._  
~Peter Heller, The Dog Stars

 

 _If this were the last night of the world_  
_What would I do?_  
_What would I do that was different_  
_Unless it was champagne with you?_  
~ Bruce Cockburn

 

//

 

Liam loses his heart when he proposes to Zayn.

It's a beautiful, sunny June afternoon. It’s warm, but not too hot, sun high in the sky, a few clouds scattered here and there. They’re under the shade of an oak tree in Liam’s backyard, light dappling the grass around them through quietly rustling leaves. Liam is down on one knee, gazing up at Zayn with a face filled with love and adoration. He’s oddly nervous even though he’s been planning this for a while. He holds one of Zayn’s hands in his own and he chews on his lip as he pulls the ring out of his jeans pocket. When Zayn sees what it is he frowns a little at first, then his eyes light up and crinkle and he grins like he’s looking at the sun.

“Liam,” he says. Liam nods.

“Will you marry me, Zayn Malik?” And his voice is all shaky and nervous which is stupid but he can’t help it. It means so much. It means everything that Zayn says yes. But before he can even finish speaking completely Zayn is nodding with enthusiasm.

Zayn keeps nodding, then adds an emphatic “ _Yes_ ,” and holds his hand out proper, fingers spread so Liam can push the ring on. Liam screws up his face in concentration. The ring makes it halfway up Zayn’s finger before it falls apart. Literally.

“Oh,” Liam says and he sounds like he might cry. Of course it would fall apart at the most crucial moment. Of course of course of course. He blinks back hot tears and bites his lip hard.

“It’s ok, it’s ok! Don’t worry.” Zayn springs into action, taking the twisted dandelion stems and bits of grass and uses nimble fingers to twine them back together. In a moment the dandelion bud sits neatly on top. Perfect. He slips it onto his own finger and grins down at it, then up at Liam. “See?” He looks back down. “It’s _perfect_.”

Liam nods. He does see. And it _is_ perfect. And Zayn’s perfect. And everything is as perfect as can be for two nine-year-olds who love each other more than anything on a warm summer afternoon and are newly engaged.

 

//

 

“You’re such a loser, Liam.” This is his sister Nicola. Loser is her new favourite word and Liam is her favourite recipient. “Boys can’t marry boys, Liam.” Nicola tells him this in her Bossy Big Sister Voice when Liam makes the happy pronouncement that night at the dinner table. He’s fairly quivering with excitement. He needs to share it with _someone_ and his family seems the perfect choice. After all, they’ve known Zayn for as long as he has and they love him, too. Not like Liam loves him but still. No one loves Zayn like Liam does.

“Oh leave him, Nic,” their mother says as she loads mashed potatoes on their plates. Liam makes a face. His stomach is starting to hurt. “It’s sweet.”

Liam feels his face flush hot. What he feels for Zayn isn’t sweet exactly. He doesn’t have the proper vocabulary yet to describe what he feels for Zayn. One day he will and when he does he’ll tell Zayn exactly. And his family, too. Especially Nicola.

“But it’s just for fun, right?” Nicola continues. “I mean you realize you can’t really do it?”

Liam lifts a pile of potatoes on his spoon and shoves it in his mouth. They taste like ashes. He can’t swallow. His throat works hard to get something down. He manages to swallow some and talk around the rest.

“But I love him. And he loves me.” Liam taps his spoon on the remainder of the potatoes. It makes a wet _thwack thwack_ sound. His stomach is starting to cramp now. He feels queasy.

“Mum,” Nicola says, huffing out a breath and rolling her eyes. This is another thing she does a lot these days, generally aimed in Liam’s direction.

Mum scowls at Nicola and pats Liam’s shoulder. “Leave it,” she says, firmly, finally, end of discussion. “Love is everything,” she says and she may be saying it to Liam, or to herself, or to the universe in general. Liam isn’t sure. “Love, in the end, is all that really matters. Never forget.”

And despite everything that happens, Liam never does.

 

//

 

Liam loses his voice briefly when it comes to reciting his marriage vows the following week. He and Zayn are in the backyard again, dressed _extra special_ for the occasion in T-shirts and shorts without holes or stains and they’re holding hands under the Oak tree and trying not to laugh. It’s not that Liam thinks it’s stupid or silly, it’s just that he’s so _happy_ and he can’t stop the happy and the laughs just come after that. He’s getting _married_ to _Zayn_ and life just couldn’t be any more perfect right at this exactly moment.

Zayn squeezes his slightly sweaty hands in his own, encouraging him to keep going.

“Uh,” Liam says. “I wrote some things down, but I wanted to do it from memory.”

Zayn nods, eyes bright, teeth worrying at his lip as he waits.

“Ok,” Liam says, standing straighter. “I Liam take you Zayn to be my—” he stops, blushing.

“Husband,” Zayn stage whispers, as if Liam has forgotten. As if he could forget.

“Yes. Husband.” Liam says it a bit louder, but not too loud because his family is just inside the house and he was going to invite them but after the episode at the dinner table the past week he decided not to after all. Zayn doesn’t question him on this. It’s ok that it’s just the two of them, anyway. It’s better this way. “And we will always be together. And I’ll always give you hugs and share my lunches and kisses too sometimes if that’s ok.”

Zayn nods. “Yes. That’s ok. All of it.”

So they hug and Liam gives Zayn a slightly wilted Dandelion — keeping with the engagement ring theme — and kisses Zayn on the cheek and they hug again and laugh because they’re happy.

They’re happy and it’s perfect and for a few blessed days everything is so good it almost hurts.

They never once let go of each other’s hands.

They never stop smiling.

Liam never forgets.

 

//

 

Liam loses his dignity the day after he announces to people at school that he and Zayn are married. Liam doesn’t see the shove coming, as it comes from behind. Two strong, sure angry hands flat on his back pushing hard. The wind is knocked out of him and he lies face down in the playground dirt with someone’s foot on his back.

He hears words like _homo_ and _faggot_ and doesn’t really understand how they relate to him and Zayn but he knows they do and he hears them a lot over the next few weeks as he gets shoved and tripped and teased until a teacher takes him aside and demands to know what’s going on. Liam shrugs like it’s a completely normal and acceptable fact that he’s getting his face smashed into walls and dirt on a daily basis.

Zayn gets bullied too, but he’s always been bullied for the colour of his skin and what his family celebrates so he just hunches down a little further and walks a little faster and they spend a little less time together when they’re at school.

But it’s ok because after school and on weekends they’re always together even if they don’t really ever talk about being married again.

And then the next year they’re in different classes.

And then Liam starts taking sports, to get faster and stronger with some muscles and speed and intimidation.

And Zayn starts taking art and painting and music to get everything that’s in his head out out out.

And they meet new people and make new friends.

But it’s ok they’re still friends and Liam still loves him so much his heart hurts.

But.

In the process Liam loses little pieces of Zayn, bit by bit, year by year, but he guesses Zayn is losing Liam a bit, too, in different ways, and he’s not sure which is worse.

 

//

 

They still have mutual friends, of course, their close circle of mates who have been there for them and supported them through everything, even during the hardest times, Louis and Harry and Niall, the boys who know them and who love them best, and these are the friends who keep them grounded and keep them safe as best they can. These are the boys who bring them together when they start to drift apart and the love Liam feels for them fills up every part of him. There are mindless hours of video games and drunken bowling and drunken football and drunken evenings with nothing else but laughing and teasing and talking and the sharing of confessions that only friends like these get to hear.

Tonight it’s Louis’ house, an empty house, and Louis’ small bedroom, now filled to the brim with five slightly high boys weary of school and the bleakness of the state of the world in general.

“Did you listen to the news tonight?” Niall says, face still and grave, so unlike him. “It sounds like—”

“No!” Harry shouts. “No. No negative talk here. Not tonight.” Then he hugs Niall tight and whispers something in his ear and they both laugh.

“We’re going to play a game,” Louis announces loudly. “And everyone is going to play. No exceptions.” Zayn opens his mouth to protest and Louis shushes him. “ _No_ exceptions.” He settles back on the bed, his little cache of hotel-sized liquor bottles spread out before him.

“Not truth or dare. Please,” Niall says. Louis looks downcast for a split second but then smiles indulgently.

“Don’t ruin it,” Louis says and Zayn huffs and rolls his eyes. Louis ignores him. Because it _is_ Truth or Dare and it starts out innocently enough — Yes Harry and Louis have fooled around, and No they’re not sharing all the details and Yes Louis flashed the senior boys’ football team last year and No Niall does not like anyone right now — but then the dares begin and amid all the laughter and the bizarre requests to eat an entire jar of pickles in less than a minute or send a photo of a naked ass to Laura from econ — Liam knows fairly quickly where this is all going.

“Zayn I dare you to kiss someone in this room!” Harry yells because when Harry has been drinking he wants everyone to kiss each other all the time.

“Anyone?” Zayn asks, his face flushing red.

Harry flings his arms open wide. “Anyone! Including me!” His voice is very loud and Louis shoves him with his foot. Harry topples over.

Zayn swallows hard and doesn’t look around and finally crawls across the worn carpet and kisses Niall on the cheek. Harry cheers. Niall smiles.

“I guess this game is ok after all,” he says.

Liam doesn’t say anything because it’s exactly the kind of game he hates playing because he always loses.

 

//

 

Liam loses his virginity, his kissing virginity, at least, when he’s 16.

It’s one of the increasingly rare occasions when they’re together after school, hanging around in Zayn’s bedroom, littered with half-empty tubes of paint and stiff brushes, books open on the floor with dog-eared pages, and they’re laughing about something dumb and Liam’s heart feels good and warm and happy. It’s almost like the old days, when things were sweet and simple and Liam never second-guessed himself about anything he felt and no one rolled their eyes at him or shoved him or whispered words that made his entire body go hot with shame.

Zayn nudges Liam’s leg with his foot. “Hey. You’ve gone all quiet. You all right?”

Liam laughs and nods. “Yeah. Just. Just thinking.” He smiles. “This is nice, right? Like it’s been awhile.”

Zayn ducks his head and smiles too. “Yeah. I was just thinking that. We need to do it more often, yeah?”

And talk turns to friends and school and sports and then, of course, to girls, and girls who like Zayn and girls who think Liam is hot and fit and they both laugh because it’s all so weird.

“You kissed Niall that time,” Liam says. He’s joking and his voice is light but there’s still that sledgehammer in his chest when he thinks of it.

“Oh god, you remember that?” Zayn laughs. “That was so crazy. They’re crazy. We’re all so crazy sometimes.”

Zayn swipes green paint across the canvas he has set up on his desk. Liam watches him while he picks at a loose thread on the cuff of his jumper.

“But seriously,” Liam says. “Have you kissed anyone else? Like really kissed them?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No. Not yet. No.” He doesn’t look directly at Liam. Liam swallows. “Have you?”

“Just you,” Liam says and laughs and Zayn laughs too, all those years ago, in the backyard, it feels like forever. It feels like a dream.

Zayn nods, face and eyes serious, like this is a very serious subject they’re addressing. He watches Liam’s face, his expression, eyes moving back and forth between Liam’s eyes and mouth.

“What?” Liam says. He feels both nervous and agitated.

Zayn shrugs. “Just a shame, I guess.”

“What is?” Liam says again, agitation winning out. “What’s a shame?”

“Your mouth. It’s like, it’s made for kissing.” Zayn says this quickly, like he’s trying to get it out before he loses his nerve and then he’s leaning forward and kissing Liam, full on, slightly shaky, hand coming up to cup Liam’s cheek. Liam leans into it and kisses him back and it’s everything. There’s some bumping of noses and clicking of teeth and the awkwardness of not really knowing exactly what you’re doing but then they both exhale and relax into it and Liam can feel the little bursts of breath from Zayn and his lips soften and even, once the tiniest touch of tongue before he pulls back, eyes wide and dazed.

“I was right,” Zayn says, smiling a little, touching his lips with trembling fingers. Then he’s leaning back in, stretching across the distance to do it again, just once more, softly.

“You’re good, Liam,” Zayn whispers against his mouth. He looks startled, scared almost, eyes flickering between Liam’s eyes and his wet mouth.

“Who are you comparing me to?” Liam says with a laugh.

Zayn shrugs. “My imagination,” he says and kisses him again, and again.

Finally: “You,” Zayn says. “You haven’t done that before? Really?”

Liam shakes his head, feeling dizzy and glorious and slightly guilty, like he should be bad for being good at this. Well it’s Zayn. How could he not be good at kissing Zayn?

Zayn runs a green-paint-smeared sticky finger across his own bottom lip, eyes never leaving Liam’s. He makes a little humming sound in the back of his throat. Then he turns away and they don’t talk about it again.

 

//

 

Liam loses the football game for his team the day after Zayn announces he’s got a proper girlfriend now and is taking her to the next dance.

Liam sits paralyzed in the school cafeteria, a high buzzing sound in his ears as he tries to process what has just happened. Niall and Harry slap Zayn on the back with congratulations but Louis just watches Liam and doesn’t say anything. He can feel Zayn’s eyes on him all through the lunch period and he thinks Zayn kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention at one point but Liam keeps eating a sandwich that tastes like paper doused in petrol then excuses himself because he has a game to get ready for.

After his second penalty he just doesn’t give a shit anymore and keeps his head down and his fists high and when number 42 gets in his fucking way _again_ Liam shoves, hard, and 42 shoves back and then there are fists on faces and they’re rolling on the ground in dirt and sweat and blood when Liam is yanked to his feet by the ref and unceremoniously kicked off the field. The spectators’ faces are a blur as he stumbles off, heart racing, nose bleeding, head pounding and he can’t see or hear but he manages to catch a glimpse of Zayn’s beautiful shocked face just before he staggers off to the changeroom to wipe his face down.

 

//

 

“Liam,” Zayn says sadly when he slides into Liam’s bedroom that night. He comes and lies down next to Liam on the bed and just stares at him.

“Does it look bad?” Liam says. He knows it does. Zayn studies him closely. Liam can feel the weight of his gaze on his face in the dim light.

“It looks painful,” is all he says. Zayn reaches out to touch, fingertips just skimming his cheek, light as anything. Liam closes his eyes and tries not to cry. He’s done enough crying today. “What happened?”

Liam closes his eyes. He’s so tired. He shrugs and tries to smile. “Guy made me mad.”

“Don’t piss off Payno,” Zayn says but his voice is sad. “Oh Liam.”

“I’ve been benched for like three games,” Liam says. “At least.”

Zayn takes his hand in his and just holds it and they lie like that until Liam finally loses his battle against sleep.

 

//

 

Liam loses his actual virginity when he’s 17 to a girl at a house party he’s at with Niall and Louis and Harry. Her name is Alice and she’s pretty and a virgin too and they find an empty room with an empty bed that already smells like sex and there’s a condom and lot of struggling and about 27 seconds of fumbling and thrusting before Liam is finished.

“Well, that’s done, then,” Alice says in the darkness. She sounds pleased and she sounds completely normal. She kisses Liam’s cheek like a brother, gives him a quick hug, slides out from under him and runs from the room.

He tells the boys later that week when they’re half-drunk in Harry’s back yard.

“Yeah we kind of already knew, mate,” Niall says. “Alice texted _everyone_ about six seconds after it happened.”

They laugh and Liam blushes but he can feel Zayn watching him, quietly in the quiet that falls after.

Liam doesn’t look back.

He knows he’s losing more and more of Zayn, bits falling off and rolling away and one day you wake up and the boy you loved so much has gotten just a bit paler and more distant.

That night, late, when they’re walking home in the dark they pause before Zayn’s house and Liam lunges forward and wraps his arms around Zayn and whispers into his ear, hard and fast and desperate.

“ _You_ were supposed to be my first.”

 

//

 

Liam loses his way in university. He’s taking a subject he loves, music and performance, but the campus is too big and intimidating and he’s alone and making friends has always been a bit difficult. He spends a lot of time by himself, either in the music booth recording and mixing, or alone in his dorm room, headphones on, music blaring, roommate coming and going and rolling his eyes at Liam behind his back.

“Does he ever talk?” they say.

“Not much, but you should hear him sing.”

He comes home on weekends and sleeps and sleeps and eats and eats and meets up with the boys and drinks and drinks. Sometimes Zayn is there and sometimes he isn’t. They have each other’s numbers and they text sometimes, not like they used to but they do, and send silly photos, and plan for meet ups when they’re home. Zayn is still dating The Girl and Liam occasionally goes out with girls who ask him, and even less occasionally sleeps with them, but he has no one serious.

It’s only one Sunday night before they’re both due back at school and it’s cold and Liam can see his breath and he’s pulled Zayn into a big hug that he whispers in his cold ear,

“You were supposed to be my last.”

 

//

 

Liam loses his mind the day Zayn comes to tell him he’s getting married.

“But. You’re already married,” is what he says and he realizes how stupid the words sound as soon as they leave his mouth but it’s too late for take-backs.

Zayn looks puzzled before realization kicks in and he smiles, shy and fond.

“Yeah,” he says to his feet. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I married you first. A long time ago.”

Zayn laughs. “I know donut. I was there.”

Liam laughs. It hurts. “It’s dumb I know.” He laughs again. “Congrats, mate. That’s. Yeah.”

Zayn looks up and leans in close and whispers. “It was the happiest day of my life.”

 

//

 

When the war inevitably breaks out Liam is in his final year of school and Zayn’s engagement has been called off then called on then called off once and for all and bombs are falling far away but getting closer quickly. Liam’s mum texts and calls daily with updates, her voice trembling, filling him in on the latest death toll and his plans for evacuation should the time come.

The time is coming, according to the news.

Winter comes early because of the war and the bombs and the chemicals and the boys go home early because of all of it. The campus is deserted and the streets of their hometown are either a flurry of activity, people buying up supplies for a possible apocalypse or deserted like the plague has struck. The snow keeps falling, gathering, piling up, higher and higher. Liam sits with his family in their home and listen and watch and wait.

“This can’t be the end, can it?” His mum’s voice has gone tight with worry and no one can think of anything to say to make it better.

Because it looks like this is the end.

 

//

 

Liam loses his mind a bit when he sees Zayn again for the first time in months and months.

There’s a Potential End of the World party hosted by Louis and because his house is within walking distance Liam’s mum says he can go.

“Nothing’s going to happen _tonight_ , mum,” he says as she wraps him in a too tight hug.

“You don’t know that,” his mum says. “No one knows what’s going to happen anymore.”

And Liam can’t argue with that. He winds his scarf around his neck and sets out. It’s quiet, so quiet everywhere, lights here and there inside houses and hardly anyone on the streets. The air smells cold and clean but underneath there’s something acrid and hot. He tries not to think about anything at all except how beautiful the world looks.

“It’s a party!” Louis says, ushering him in when he arrives. “It’s a party for the end of the world!”

There are more people crammed into the small house than Liam expected because apparently there are more people than he realized who don’t want to think about anything, either. And they drink champagne and people come and go and they sing and they dance and they all try very hard to pretend that what they’re celebrating really isn’t a celebration at all.

 

//

 

The night before they realize it’s really the end of the world they all find each other again. And before they realize it’s going to happen, Louis claps his hands and shouts.

“We’re going to play a game! It’s called pretend it’s the end of the world. What do you do to celebrate? Last night on earth! C’mon!”

“Get drunk!” Niall, who is already drunk says.

“Have sex!” Harry says and leans over to kiss Louis, long and hard. Louis kisses him back.

“Tell the people you love that you love them,” Zayn says quietly.

“Make up for lost time,” Liam says and to his horror his eyes fill with tears and everyone can hear it in his voice. Louis crawls over and hugs him, and then Harry and Niall and finally Zayn, too.

“There’s still time,” Louis says in his ear so no one else can hear. “There’s still time.”

 

//

 

And the night before they realize it’s really the end of the world the two of them find each other again.

“Hey,” Zayn says, scooting up close. Liam is sitting on the floor. They’re pressing tight together, arms and thighs. Liam can feel everything so much, too much. Zayn nudges Liam’s foot with his own to get his attention. As if Liam’s every nerve isn’t already completely focused on his presence. “You ok?”

Liam nods and tries to smile. He’s not sure it works. “Yeah.” He nods again. Zayn turns dark eyes on him and Liam tries again. “Yeah,” he repeats, firmer.

“You know it’s just a game, yeah? Louis’s just bored, taking the piss out of everyone.” Zayn sighs. He sounds tired. Or fed up. Or worried. Liam tries to guess which. “It’s just a game.” His voice ends on a softer note.

“I know,” Liam says. And he does know. It’s not that. He’s knows it’s a game, he knows the world isn’t going to end, at least not tonight. It can’t. He knows all of this. And still. He sighs without realizing, twists his head back and forth, trying to release all the tight muscles. Zayn notices of course, one hand automatically cupping the back of his neck, fingers digging into tight muscle, hard bone, and the world won’t end it can’t but Liam loses what’s left of his resolve and leans over and kisses him like it just might.

 

//

 

It won’t stop fucking _snowing._ The news reports said this would happen but no one believed them.

Beginning of the end and all that.

“We could go to a club,” Louis says. “Get right wasted.”

“No one’s going anywhere and especially not to a club to get right wasted,” Harry says. “Have you looked outside, Louis?” For dramatic effect he pulls back the curtain of the living room window. It’s all white. There’s nothing but white. They can hear ice pellets pelting the glass. They can hear wind whipping around the buildings. It’s a snowstorm. It’s a snowpocalypse.

Louis peers out and whistles, low, impressed.

“Well lads,” he says. “It was good while it lasted, yeah?”

And it was. It was good, it was very good. Liam looks at Zayn, at his beautiful, tranquil face and smiles. Despite everything that’s happened and will still happen, he can’t stop smiling. Zayn catches him looking and he smiles, too, wide and open and honest and his eyes are so fond, his face so filled with love it takes Liam’s breath away. Oh, to have been loved like that. He feels so sorry for anyone who didn’t get to experience it. It was exhilarating. He takes Zayn’s fingers between his own and squeezes hard and keeps smiling.

 

//

 

They run in the hallways and dance till the floors bend under their feet. They drink until they’re sick and then they drink some more. When the power goes out they fill the house with candles and flashlights and keep going. Liam texts his mum that everything is fine it’s fine please don’t worry everything is fine and he’ll see her, he’ll see them all, very soon.

Outside the wind howls and the snow swirls and ice beats against the windows. Liam feels very cozy, wrapped in his blanket with Zayn beside him and the strange festivities going on around them.

“You know, I would have married you. For real. If this.” Zayn waves a hand. “Wasn’t going on.”

“I would have said yes. If you’d asked.”

They doze for a bit.

Louis finds them like that and drags them up and they play every game they can think of.

Liam loses every time.

 

//

 

Near the end it gets very quiet and still inside Liam’s head.

He almost loses his nerve when Zayn presses up against him, soft and solid at the same time. It’s full dark now and the house around them is quiet. Some people have left, determined to get home, even in the snow and the ice and the wind. Others have paired up and moved to more private areas. Then there are groups of people here and there, drinking, getting high, singing. Some are crying, but not very many. They’ve moved past the crying stage now, for the most part. There are candles everywhere, yellow and gold, flickering up the walls, shadows long and quivering. Wax is melting in pools on the floor. Liam briefly thinks about fire. Then he thinks, well, what does it matter now?

Outside, the wind howls and ice scrapes the glass of the windows, beats at the stone and siding, threatens to peel back the shingles. Liam thinks about his family. They last text they shared was several hours ago now, simple I love yous, and I’m safe, and, Take care of yourself, we’re in for a long haul. No mention of anything else.

“Do you think this is it?” Zayn asks. They’ve taken over the smallest bedroom at the top of the house. It’s a drafty attic room. It’s loud and it’s cold but they’re alone and there’s a bed and there are blankets. And there’s them. Zayn is peering out the window. They’re snowed in. It’s so loud it’s quiet and so quiet the loudness hums in their ears. Liam can’t think, but his thoughts are crystal clear.

“What time is it?” he says instead of answering Zayn’s question. How on earth to answer a question like that?

“Not late.”

“We’re going to be here all night, I think.” He smiles at Zayn. “We could stay up all night. Try to leave again at dawn, maybe. Maybe the snow will have stopped by then.”

Zayn nods. He scratches his chin. He doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t argue. The wind whips and howls. “Maybe,” he says slowly. He shrugs a bit. Who knows, Liam thinks. Who knows what’s coming, but they’re here. They’re here for now.

They crawl into the narrow bed, burrowing under a mound of blankets and curl up together. Zayn is cold, so Liam pulls him close, hands closing around his back, sliding under his shirt and jumper. Zayn closes his eyes but when he opens them with determination. He moves close and then hesitates, lips ghosting over Liam’s. They can see their breath. Liam can feel Zayn’s skin cold and trembling under his fingertips.

“I’m going to kiss you now, ok?” Zayn says. And before Liam can answer he does. It’s a slow kiss, a cold one. Until their tongues touch, at least. Then it becomes heat and the slick and slide of warmth and wetness, their shallow breaths battling with the beating wind around their small room. This has been the best part of all of it, Liam decides right then. This, right here, he and Zayn, together in this room in this bed in this time and place. How much time, he thinks, how much time lost until now. He pushes Zayn’s jeans and pants down with fumbling fingers, finds his dick, hard and wet already, grasps him and squeezes, testing the weight and width of him against his trembling palm.

“Like that, just like that,” Zayn says with tiny agonized thrusts up. Liam listens and keeps doing it, doesn’t stop, Zayn’s lips pushing against his and then his cheek and then his neck just as he comes on Liam’s stomach and someone else’s sheets beneath them. This strange room this strange time. Liam just lies there, holding a shaking boy in his arms and he almost doesn’t notice his own clothes being pushes down and aside, and a strange and familiar hand on his dick, coaxing it alive, thumb swiping over the tip, lips on his chin and his ear and then reappearing on his dick, mouth warm and wet and sucking and oh oh—

Liam bites his lip so hard it bleeds and then his mouth falls open, lax, loose. His hands are wrapped in the soft knit of Zayn’s jumper and he pulls until it rips at the seams and his heart splits wide open in the dark, under the uneasy rafters being torn apart bit by bit by bit.

He loses all sense of time. But, he supposes it really doesn’t matter anymore.

 

//

 

When he wakes up someone is singing very softly. Zayn is singing. It’s a song Liam doesn’t know. He wonders how many other things Zayn knows, things he’s learned over the years that Liam doesn’t know. He wonders how much time he has to ask those kinds of questions, so he listens to Zayn’s quiet beautiful voice instead.

_You, you and the candles_  
_Will be all that I need_  
_Your face bathed in the firelight_  
_Will be all I want to see_  
_And I'll still sing you a song_  
_That will last the whole night long_  
_You, you and the candles_

He kind of just drifts off then and before Liam can ask all the questions building in his chest, he falls asleep again.

 

//

 

“Won’t be long now,” says Liam. For what, he doesn’t specify.

“How do you know?”

Liam shrugs. “I don’t, really. Just a feeling, I guess.

They kiss and kiss, soft and slow. It’s not getting any lighter. There’s no light even though Liam supposes it must be well dawn by now. There are no other voices in the house below them. Either they’re alone or everything has ended already.

“Maybe it’s ended already,” Liam says. He whispers it. He feels like he has to whisper but he's not sure why. “Maybe we’re dead and everyone is dead.”

“Maybe,” Zayn says. He doesn’t sound particularly worried. He looks at Liam like he has all the answers and he believe anything he might say. “I thought it would be bigger though. Louder. Messier.”

“This is ok, though, right? If we have to go.” Liam smiles a little because he believes it. It's kind of along the lines of what he always thought might happen, the two of them and the end of the world. It's dark and it's quiet and it's almost peaceful, if he doesn't think too hard and too long about why it's dark and kind of peaceful. He just keeps looking at Zayn.

"It's ok," Zayn says, and he sounds like he means it, he really does. His dark eyes are so very dark, his long lashes like soot on his cheekbones. Liam has never seen anything more beautiful. "It's more than ok." Zayn's voice is quiet, but hard, like he's determined to get something across to Liam.

Liam smiles at Zayn and Zayn tries to smile back. Zayn ducks his head and pushes it against Liam’s shoulder. His body shakes a little bit.

“I can’t lose you, now that I’ve just found you again,” Liam whispers in the light of the flickering candles. Everything is bathed in a soft yellow glow, but the black is licking at the light and everything is starting to fade.

“You won’t lose me,” Zayn says and kisses him, softly, softly. “Not this time. Promise. I’m here.” He takes Liam’s cold hand and places it against his cold cheek. It might be wet but Liam’s not going to ask. It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re here and they’re here together.

Zayn smiles. Liam can feel him smiling while they kiss. 

Ok, thinks Liam. He can feel his breath mixing with Zayn’s, easy. It’s not perfect, it’s not what he imagined, but it’s them and it's not a competition and it's not a contest or a race but if it was—

—what a way to lose—

 

//


End file.
